


Journey

by Taliana



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Romance, Slash, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliana/pseuds/Taliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While travelling back to his homeland far in the North, Ryden hears about a magical orchard. Tempted by the irresistible need to see it for himself, he then meets one of the orchard's mysterious Caretakers, a young man named Emery.</p>
<p>Intrigued by the handsome stranger and the stories of his travels, Emery finds himself risking everything to hear more of the world outside the orchard's walls... or to see it with his own eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the beautiful ladies who have betaed, given feedback and just generally held my hand throughout this whole process: Meggy, Mica, Rinoa and Kitteh. ♥
> 
> This began as a fantasy AU fanfic, but in the very early stages I realised that was holding this back. It was a very scary step for me to take, but I'm already glad that I did :D I hope you will all grow to love Ryden and Emery as much as I already do!

It was the flash of purple at the corner of his eye that caught Ryden’s attention first. It reminded him of home, of flowers that bloomed that same deep, rich colour. He turned to look, staring openly at the small group of people wearing purple robes. One of them had hair like snow, hanging down her back in a thick, long braid.

 

“Twenty coppers.”

 

“Sorry, how much?” Ryden tore his eyes away.

 

“Twenty.” The shopkeeper leaned over his stall to see what had caught Ryden’s attention, and nodded knowingly. “Ah, the Caretakers.”

 

“Are they priestesses?”

 

The shopkeeper shrugged, taking Ryden’s coins and beginning to bundle together his purchases. “In a way, I suppose? There’s an orchard about two hours east of here, in the valley. They say it’s built on sacred ground, you see. All sorts grows there, sorts that ain’t natural to grow in these parts. Some kind of magic, I figure. No-one really knows.”

 

“And these Caretakers look after the orchard?”

 

“Right. Anyone else tries to work the land there, crops just wither and die. The Caretakers take in orphans, real young, raise ‘em to work the land. They teach ‘em about growing stuff, but I hear they can heal, too. Some folks call on them if they’re in a pinch. Keep to themselves mostly though, that lot. They only come up here every few weeks or so.”

 

Ryden bid the shopkeeper a good day and wandered further down the bustling street. The small group were gathered around the baker’s cart, one of the smaller girls making an excited noise when the baker broke off a tiny piece of sweet pastry for her to try. The others laughed, and the baker kindly patted her on the head.

 

The one with the white hair must have felt Ryden’s eyes on them, because she turned. Striking blue eyes met his, and Ryden realised with a start that it wasn’t a woman at all. It was a man. He was handsome, his eyes bright with open curiosity. When Ryden smiled at him, he gave him a shy smile back, looking away only when the small girl tugged on his sleeve.

 

“You best not bother that lot, lad.” The innkeeper’s wife had stopped by Ryden’s side. She set down two heavy baskets so that she could mop at her brow. Summer had begun with full force, the days already quite hot. “They keep to themselves, and we let them. Best that way. Naught good comes of getting mixed up with them.”

 

“You’re the second person to tell me they keep to themselves. They look friendly enough.” Ryden picked up one of the baskets to help.

 

“Aye, they’re nice folk. But you hear tales sometimes. My grandma once told me that back when she was a girl, one of the shepherds’ lads sired a babe on one of the Caretaker girls. The shepherd’s whole flock fell ill and died after that, even the lambs. Don’t get me wrong. They’re good folk, they never caused trouble in my time. Just seems best to leave well enough alone, you know? Never wise to cross a person with that kind of power.”

 

Ryden cast a glance over his shoulder. The group were moving off through the marketplace, and the crowd parted respectfully to let them through without pushing. It seemed to Ryden to be the same careful reverence shown to priests. They certainly did have a mysterious air around them. Their robes were long, down to their ankles, with long, loose sleeves. Wide, black sashes wound around their waists. They stood out amongst villagers wearing simple tunics or trousers and shirts, in shades of tan and white.

 

“You’ve got trouble in your eye.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Aye, you. My boy used to get the same look in his eye, right before he tried to steal sweets out from under my nose. Still does, sometimes.”

 

Ryden laughed at that. “I’m not out to steal sweets. They just sound interesting. The place they live sounds quite strange.”

 

“Well, it ain’t a place travellers should stray into. You hear me?” The woman turned to fix Ryden with a steely glare at the door to the inn. “If I hear you’re poking your nose around there, I’ll throw you out on your ass and keep your coin. I’ll not have troublemakers under my roof.”

 

“I hear you,” Ryden assured her. The stout woman barely came up to his chest, but he was inclined to believe she would make good on her word.

 

* * *

 

Maybe he really did have trouble in his eye.

 

As the sun began to set, Ryden found himself leaving town and heading east. His interest had already been piqued from hearing about the strange, supposedly magical orchard. Being told he should stay away from it had done nothing but pique it further. Ryden didn’t like mysteries. He liked facts. He liked to see things with his own eyes, so that he knew things for himself.

 

It was why he had left his homeland, far in the North.

 

Ryden had grown up on tales of warriors and adventurers, men and women who had travelled to the corners of the earth and seen all manner of fantastical things. As a teen, he’d gone with his friends to the northern-most point of the continent, to see ancient castles and watch as the Dragon’s Breath danced across the night sky, colourful ribbons of light twisting above frozen lakes. As a man, he’d explored ruins and old temples, the remnants of kingdoms so old they were all but forgotten. The more he found, the more questions he had.

 

His search for answers had led him away from home, beyond snowy peaks and into the gentle, rolling hills of Elessir in the South.

 

That was over a year ago. His travels had taken him further afield than he’d ever intended, but now he was finally beginning to turn back towards home. If he left soon, he could probably be back in his own lands by autumn.

 

This, Ryden promised himself, wasn’t going to be one of his long detours. He just wanted to take a look at the orchard, see if he could find out anything interesting about the Caretakers. It would be something interesting to add to his travel journal. He’d just take a look, then maybe he’d ask some questions in town, see if anyone had any historical records that mentioned them.

 

A week, he promised himself. A week of seeing what he could find out, and then he would start planning the next stage of his journey home.

 

The road he followed led him to the upper edge of the valley before veering off. The ground sloped down gently, fields of knee-high grass that turned into thick woodland. The moon was full and bright overhead and Ryden could just see the orchard from here, nestled in the heart of the woods. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Maybe some glowing, mystical thing. What he could see looked quite normal. It was larger than he expected, and had high walls that he wouldn’t think an orchard would need, but other than that, it seemed to just be a regular orchard.

 

Even the woods seemed normal, as he carefully made his way through them. An owl hooted somewhere above him. Insects buzzed in the warm night air. A fox froze in front of him, then darted quickly away. Shouldn’t the woods protecting a magical orchard from prying eyes feel more foreboding? He’d expected every tree to be a looming threat, intent on intimidating him into turning back.

 

The walls surrounding the orchard turned out to be even less remarkable. They were old, crumbling in some places, moss-covered in others. A few sections seemed to be held together only by the thick vines that tangled around the stones. If these walls were for protection, they weren’t going to do a very good job of it. As Ryden walked alongside the wall, he saw another fox up ahead, its bushy tail bouncing as it wriggled through a gap between the stones.

 

Ryden stopped and looked up. The walls were a few feet taller than he was. Finding a section that didn’t look like it would collapse under his weight, Ryden sprang up. He got his arms to the top, his toes easily finding footholds against the stone so he could push himself up. A small piece of stone crumbled under his hand and he swore, shifting his weight.

 

More concerned with his own safety, he didn’t notice the Caretaker who had been digging in a patch of herbs on the other side, a colourful lantern swinging from the branch he’d hung it on.

 

“Stay back!”

 

The voice startled Ryden so badly that he almost fell. Their eyes met. It was the same man that Ryden had seen in the village. Recognition dawned in his eyes as well.

 

“Oh, it’s you.” The two spoke in unison, surprising each other into a long, drawn-out silence.

 

“I’m Ryden.” He really didn’t have much faith in the integrity of the wall, and went to jump down.

 

“Stay there.” The Caretaker had been holding a trowel, and now he brandished it as if it were a weapon, holding it in both hands.

 

The man was no real threat. He was wearing the same long, flowing robes as earlier, which didn’t look as though they would do much for mobility in a fight. His only weapon was the trowel. Even a fighter less seasoned than Ryden could be off this wall and have him disarmed before the man could even take a swing. But that seemed unnecessary, and Ryden settled on the wall instead, his legs dangling down. The Caretaker watched him for a moment before slowly lowering the tool.

 

“My name is Emery. I haven’t seen you before. You’re not from the village.”

 

“I’m from up past the Rend.”

 

“Past the Rend?” Emery echoed with wide eyes. “You mean from Tygion? That’s so far away…. you can’t be, though. I heard they’re wolfmen and barbarians. You don’t look like one.”

 

Wolfmen. Barbarians. Ice demons. Ryden had heard it all, and it all had roots in the truth, the way most rumours tend to. Even if he didn’t tell people where he was from, even if he dressed in clothes more common to these parts, it was obvious enough just from the dark tattoos that covered his right arm and the left side of his neck, and the deep, mauve colouring of his eyes.

 

“I’m definitely not a barbarian, but I really am from Tygion. I’ve been travelling.” Ryden cringed when another piece of wall crumbled beneath the heel of his hand. “Can I come down? It’s not the sturdiest wall I’ve ever sat on.”

 

Emery’s grip on the trowel tightened.

 

“Fine.” His eyes were wary, and when Ryden dropped down he took a quick step back. He reminded Ryden of a rabbit. “Stay by the wall, and don’t come any closer.”

 

“Alright.” Not a rabbit, Ryden realised. Emery was wary, but he wasn’t afraid. He was as likely to bite as he was to run. A fox, then. “What are you doing out here?”

 

“Tending the herbs.”

 

Ryden’s eyes began to wander, taking in the neat rows of carefully tended plants. Trees were scattered here and there, their branches heavily laden with fruits. While he had sat on the wall, he could hear the soft whisper of the woods. Now that he was inside the walls, everything seemed quiet and still.

 

“I heard you grow a lot of things in here.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Only Caretakers can tend the land?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are there many of you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Irritation pricked at Ryden. Curiosity ranked high on the list of his own personal traits. Patience, on the other hand, was somewhere down the very bottom. This line of questioning was proving to be about as productive as getting blood out of a stone, and he wondered what new tactic he should take to get Emery to be a little more forthcoming with information.

 

“I heard you turn into giant wolves during battle.”

 

The sudden retort took Ryden by surprise, although the words themselves didn’t. “What else have you heard?”

 

“That there are blood-drinking demons that lurk in snowstorms. And strange beasts that roam through the mountains. I also heard you’re supposed to be as tall as three men and as broad as two.” He looked Ryden up and down. “Are you a child, then? Or maybe you’re deformed.” He paused. “Or perhaps a woman?”

 

Ryden stared at him. For a long moment he thought Emery was being serious, but then he saw the corner of the man’s mouth twitch. Suddenly Emery was laughing, his whole face brightening up. Ryden shook his head.

 

“Funny.” Still, Emery making jokes at his expense was a step in the right direction. “What about you? Your hair is whiter than my grandfather’s. You must be at least ninety.”

 

“I’m a hundred, actually.”

 

“What?” Ryden was shocked. The man looked barely twenty. “Really?”

 

Ryden was treated to another one of Emery’s laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m twenty-three. I don’t know why my hair’s this colour.”

 

“I like it, it’s eye-catching.” The compliment seemed to catch Emery off guard, which Ryden took as a victory all by itself. “I’m twenty-five.”

 

Very slowly, as if Emery was a wild animal that would be startled off by any quick movement, Ryden sat down at the foot of the wall. Ryden could see Emery’s grip on the trowel loosen a little. Guarded, but curious; he could work with that.

 

“So why are you out here after sunset, tending herbs?”

 

“Well, sometimes I just like being out here at night. Today though, it’s because we went into the village. I didn’t have time to get everything done before dinner.” Emery returned to gardening as he spoke, glancing over occasionally to make sure that Ryden hadn’t moved.

 

“What are those herbs for?”

 

“Cooking, mostly, but you can make a warming salve from them too. Good for pulled muscles, aches, things like that.” Emery sat back and brushed some stray hair out of his face, mindless of the dirt he left on his cheeks. “They like to fight, though. We plant them together because they strangle other plants with their roots. They try to strangle each other, too, but it’s easier to maintain like this. Every few days I have to separate the roots.”

 

Ryden was only half listening. As interesting as he sure the gardening lesson was, it wasn’t what he was here for.

 

“I heard the land here is magical.”

 

Met with silence, Ryden lifted an eyebrow and continued. “A magical orchard, growing all sorts of things, guarded by priests.”

 

“We’re not priests,” Emery corrected slowly. He paused before he went on. “We’re caretakers. We’re not exactly a holy order. And I wouldn’t say the land is magical. Just… blessed. It’s true that we can grow almost anything here, all year around, but we do have to plant and tend them properly. If you planted something and then never watered it, it would still die.”

 

“There are no defences. Anyone could walk in here, take whatever they wanted.”

 

“I see no reason why they would.”

 

“It seems like someone wanting to make some quick gold would have a good reason to. They could take something valuable, sell it somewhere else.”

 

Emery shook his head. “They wouldn’t be able to. Besides, we trade goods and services with everyone around here. No-one has a reason to steal from us.”

 

Ryden was eager to press for more now that Emery seemed happy to volunteer information, even if there were some strange holes in Emery’s logic.

 

“You get taken in as orphans, right?”

 

“Yes. Orphans, or abandoned children. Girls, mostly. Mother doesn’t often take in boys. I’m the only one at the moment. There were a few others, but she sent them away when they were older.”

 

“But she didn’t send you away? Why not?”

 

Emery smiled wryly and spread out his hands, gesturing to everything that surrounded them. “I’m very good at all of this.”

 

“What about the ones who were sent away? They weren’t as good at it?”

 

A shadow passed across Emery’s face, so quickly hidden away that Ryden was almost convinced he’d imagined it.

 

“We all have different skills,” Emery said slowly. “Sometimes those skills are bettered suited somewhere else. And this life isn’t for everyone. There are sacrifices it requires that some people realise they don’t want to make.”

 

For all the insisting that the Caretakers weren’t a holy order, they certainly sounded a lot like one to Ryden.

 

In the distance, someone called Emery’s name. He glanced towards the sound. “I need to go. I know there’s nothing stopping you from wandering around but… I’d rather you left. You shouldn’t be here. Can I trust you to leave?”

 

Ryden got to his feet. “I will if you make a deal with me.”

 

“What kind of deal?”

 

“I’ll leave if you promise to meet me here again tomorrow night, and tell me more.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“I’ll tell you about where I come from. Anything you want to know.”

 

Emery paused, caught up in a clear internal debate with himself. Ryden watched as he slowly edged towards a decision, and then threw caution to the wind. “Fine. It’s a deal, but not tomorrow night. The night after.” His name was called again, the voice closer now, and Emery snatched up his lantern. “Go! Quickly! I’ll be in trouble if we’re seen.”

 

Ryden stretched out his hand. “Shake on it.”

 

“You’ll have to take me at my word. I’ll take you at yours.” With that, Emery turned and ran off.

  
Left alone in the orchard without Emery watching over him, the urge to go back on his word and explore was hard to resist. It wasn’t as though Emery would know Ryden had broken his word. The man sighed, gazing out into the orchard. The moon cast everything in a beautiful, silvery light. He had thought the orchard quite ordinary at first, but the longer he stood here and looked, the more enchanted by it he felt.

 

It was tempting, but Ryden turned with a sigh, pulling himself back over the wall. He had given Emery his word, and he wouldn’t go back on it.


	2. Chapter 2

Seeing Emery waiting for him as he climbed the wall was a pleasant surprise. Ryden hadn't been sure that the man would be there.

 

"I gave you my word," Emery had said, with the slightest hint of offence, when Ryden brought it up. It made him even gladder that he had held up his own end of the deal, despite the temptation once Emery had left him alone in the orchard.

 

Now they were sitting in a sheltered corner, hidden from sight by trees with low-hanging branches, and bushes that were chest-height in size.

 

The bushes were covered with orange flowers, long petals dotted with flecks of brown and red, and when Ryden brushed his fingers against one, the flower slowly furled in on itself. He brought his hand away, smelling the light, musky fragrance it had left on his fingertips, and watched in fascination as the flower unfurled again.

 

"Try to not touch anything," Emery warned, and shook his head when Ryden murmured an apology. "It's fine. These are okay to touch. Just don't pick them."

 

"What happens if I pick them?"

 

"They'll die. Everything here will, if it’s picked by someone who isn’t a Caretaker.” Emery hesitated, then motioned for Ryden to pick one of the flowers. The moment Ryden twisted it off the branch, the flower began to lose its colour, the petals slowly shrivelling in on themselves. Within moments, it was just a withered husk in Ryden’s palm.

 

“So _that’s_ what you meant, when you said no-one would bother coming in here to steal things.” It suddenly made sense. Of course there was no need for them to maintain the walls, when there was essentially nothing here to be taken.

 

Emery gently took the withered petals from Ryden’s hand, placing them with reverence beneath the bush the flower had come from. Although it was just one flower, he did feel a little bad that he’d sacrificed one simply to illustrate a point to the other man.

 

"How is any of this possible? Did someone put a spell on the land? I asked around in the village, but the only suggestion anyone had was magic.”

 

“Have you heard of Viestyr?" Ryden shook his head, and Emery sat back, fingers idly tracing over some of the flowers. "Hundreds of years ago, a blind woman called Viestyr fell in love with a tree spirit that lived in these woods. Every day, rain or shine, she would find her way through the woods, unable to see but guided by the tree spirit's voice. She would sit with him, talking, singing, and as their love grew stronger, she realised that if she placed her head against him, she could see through him, could see the endless stretch of blue sky above the woods, the stars in the night sky.

 

"Years later, a terrible blight fell on the forest. Corruption crept through, twisting and bending the trees, turning their branches to withered stone, and their sap to thick, black poison. Day by day, the blight grew stronger, and the tree spirit began to die, along with the woods.

 

"Viestyr begged the gods, pleaded with them to tell her how to save her beloved.

 

"The harvest goddess, Dimura, came to her in her dreams and told her what she must do to save the trees. Three nights later, under the full moon, Viestyr came to her beloved's tree. She kissed his trunk in farewell, pressing her head against him to see for one last time the night sky, and then slit her wrists. As her life seeped into the earth, the corruption was pushed back. The trees that were beyond saving turned to ash, crumbling to be born away on the night breeze. Those that could, drew strength from her sacrifice.

 

"Distraught by his lover's death, the tree spirit cried. His roots opened the earth, and drew Viestyr down into the ground, tangling around her lifeless body. Day and night, season after season, he mourned her passing. Even when the wind wasn't blowing, his branches would sing out his grief.

 

"And then one spring, many years later, a tiny sapling pushed up from between the tree's roots. Viestyr, reborn. The sapling grew, quick and strong, and the two trees twined together, to never again be apart.

 

"This," Emery motioned to the orchard, "is where the heart of the corruption was. This is the land that was blessed by her blood. She stands in the centre of the orchard, with her beloved, and at night you can hear them singing."

 

Silence settled as Emery finished recounting the tale. His eyes were shining. Ryden didn't consider himself a romantic, but the tale had been deeply moving, and there was a slight lump in his throat that made him not trust himself to speak straight away. He let the words sit, mulling them over.

 

"That was beautiful," he said eventually, his voice soft.

 

Emery rested his chin on his knees, watching Ryden with curious eyes. He hadn't expected Ryden to be moved by the tale; but then, he wasn’t sure what he had expected, to be honest.

 

“No-one in the village mentioned Viestyr.”

 

“No, they wouldn’t have.” There was a hint of sadness in Emery’s voice. “They forgot about her a long, long time ago.”

 

They were disturbed by a rustle of leaves. Emery tensed, then visibly relaxed when a fox slipped through the bushes. “Neela, you scared me,” he chided. The fox had frozen in place, beady black eyes fixed on Ryden.

 

“Is it friendly?”

 

“You mean will she bite you? I’m not sure.” Emery soothingly stroked at the fox’s back, feeling her body coil tight as Ryden slowly stretched a hand out. Cautiously Neela sniffed at his fingertips and then, to Emery’s surprise, actually let Ryden stroke her head.

 

“Her fur is really soft.” Ryden drew his hand back, and smiled when the fox came a little closer, sniffing at his legs. He wondered if this was the same fox he’d seen the other night, slipping through the wall. Neela looked quite well fed, although she still had that natural leanness that foxes often did. Her tail was thick and bushy, and he let his fingers brush against it when she decided to start walking all over his lap, sniffing at his chest and his face.

 

“Neela, are you trying to make me jealous?”

 

The fox looked over at Emery and made a soft yipping noise. Ryden laughed, especially when Neela started digging at his pocket. “Can’t fool your nose, can I?” In his pocket was some jerky, wrapped in a stiff piece of cloth. When he pulled it out, Neela snatched a piece from between his fingers and curled up under the bushes to start chewing it.

 

“You like animals?” Emery waved away the piece of jerky Ryden offered him.

 

“Yes.” Since Emery hadn’t asked him any questions yet, and their deal had promised a fair exchange of information, Ryden decided to share a bit. “My people… some of us ride wolves. Big ones. I have one.”

 

“You ride wolves?” Emery sounded dubious.

 

“They’re bigger than horses.” The look Emery gave him had Ryden thoroughly irritated. “What, you believe in some blind woman killing herself over a bunch of sick trees, but you can’t believe in wolves big enough to ride?”

 

“Okay, okay. You make a fair point.” Still, the idea of wolves bigger than horses seemed ridiculous, even to Emery. “What’s your wolf called?”

 

“Demas.” The name was said with tenderness, as if Ryden were speaking of a lover or a family member. “He’s black as the night, and his eyes are gold. He’s gigantic. The kids in the village love trying to climb up on his back.” Just talking about him made Ryden ache for home. He missed the cold, the mountains, the echoing of wolves howling in the night. He missed Demas and the rest of the wolf pack, missed his friends. Missed Sari creeping into his room each morning to leave a pot of coffee by his bedside for when he woke. Ryden sighed, looking up at the sky. He wondered what they were doing right now.

 

Emery watched the emotions play across Ryden’s face, and wondered what it must feel like to be so far away from home, to be apart from everything that one had ever known. “How long have you been gone?”

 

“Months.” The time had passed so quickly in the moment, and yet looking back on it, it felt like an eternity. “Over a year.”

 

“Why?”

 

Neela had climbed back into Ryden’s lap, and he fished out another piece of jerky for the fox. She stayed on his lap to eat it this time, and he stroked his fingers through her rust coloured fur.

 

“I found an ancient temple a few years ago. The walls were covered in carvings that told the story of a warrior who wielded a sword that could slay any creature. It could even slay spirits. After he had rid the world of a great evil, he entrusted the blade to a priestess, who hid it away so that it would never fall into the wrong hands.” Ryden had spent two sleepless weeks in those ruins, far underground. “The temple must have been a thousand years old, at least. From floor to ceiling the walls had been covered in detailed pictures and an ancient language I’ve never seen before. I wanted to see if I could find the sword.”

 

“What makes you think the sword is down here if the temple is in Tygion?”

 

“I couldn’t decipher much of the writing, but from the drawings of when the priestess took the sword, it looked like she had come south. In the background of one there were three spires coming out of a sea of clouds-,”

 

“The Towers of Arazzad,” Emery’s voice was filled with wonder. “It really exists? Did you go all the way there?”

 

“Yeah, I did.” It had been one of the few landmarks that Ryden had been able to positively identify from the carvings, so it had been his starting point. Getting there had taken weeks of travel, first by ship and then by land. “It was a dead end. Everything was, in the end. I couldn’t find anyone who recognised the writing, or knew a story that was even vaguely similar. Maybe it had just been a myth all along.”

 

“That must have been so frustrating.” Emery couldn’t imagine travelling so far only to have found nothing.

 

“It was,” Ryden shrugged. “But I’ve never felt like I’ve wasted my time. I’ve seen some amazing things, been to all kinds of incredible places. I don’t regret a moment of it.”

 

Emery looked up at the sky, wondering if it looked different in other parts of the world. This place was all he’d ever known, probably all he ever would know. Sometimes that thought unsettled him, but this was his home. He couldn’t imagine leaving this place, leaving his family. When you left the orchard, you couldn’t return. “What’s it like where you’re from?”

 

“Mountains, forests. There are plains, but not as much farmland as you have here. Our crops and herds are different, and our winters are longer and colder. Our summers aren’t as hot as yours. I thought I was going to die last summer.”

 

“It wasn’t that hot! That was quite a mild one.”

 

“It’s a lot hotter further south. They don’t even get snow in winter. What about those robes? Do you always wear them?”

 

“These?” Emery looked down at himself and nodded. “Yes. We wear these all year around.”

 

Ryden just shook his head. Emery’s robes covered him from wrist to ankle, and Ryden couldn’t imagine anyone finding that comfortable during the peak of summer.

 

Silence settled between them. It was comfortable, and Emery watched Ryden playing with Neela, his hands poking her here and there while she twisted and turned and nipped playfully at his fingers. Emery watched as a genuine smile spread across Ryden’s face, his eyes twinkling. He was handsome, Emery realised. He’d always thought that people from north of the Rend were tall, bulky, monstrous men but Ryden didn’t look so different from the men he had seen around here. In fact, he was nothing like Emery had been led to believe, from what he had read in books or been told.

 

The dark lines of Ryden’s tattoos caught his eyes. Emery’s gaze followed them as they curled around Ryden’s forearm, then disappeared up beneath his sleeve. His gaze swept across bared collarbones to the other side of Ryden’s neck, where the lines continued. It wasn’t until his eyes finished following the tattoos up to where they were lost beneath Ryden’s loose hair that Emery realised the man was watching him intently. He quickly looked away.

 

“You know, you won’t turn to stone if you look me in the eye,” Ryden teased. Blue eyes glanced his way before looking away again, and Ryden chuckled. “Did you want to see them?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“The tattoos. You were looking at them.”

 

Wary eyes tracked Ryden’s every movement as the man shifted to sit closer to Emery. The Caretaker wasn’t used to being this close and talking so easily with someone who wasn’t a Caretaker as well. It wasn’t that Emery believed the man to be a threat. He just wasn’t really sure what to make of him.

 

“This symbol, here, that’s my family line. This one next to it is for my clan. All of my people have at least two marks like these.”

 

Emery leaned in to look at the lines Ryden was tracing over. They were simple shapes filled with intricate patterns on the inside of Ryden’s forearm. Intrigued, he reached out, only to catch himself before his fingers could touch Ryden’s skin.

 

A warm hand closed over Emery’s. Ryden smiled, and placed the man’s hand on his arm. “Go ahead. You can touch them. I don’t mind.”

 

Very slowly, Emery started to trace along the lines. Although he understood how tattoos were made, he had never seen any in person before. Braver now, Emery turned Ryden’s arm over, pushing the man’s sleeve up to bare more of the patterns. The marks stretched from Ryden’s wrist, covering all sides of his forearm and disappearing beneath his sleeve. It seemed to be many small designs that came together to form one large piece.

 

“This one looks like a wolf.” Emery touched the back of Ryden’s hand.

 

“Yes. All Wolf Riders get this mark on the back of their hand. And these,” Ryden touched further up his forearm. “All warriors get these. Everyone’s designs look different, but these marks will be the same for everyone who has them. Rider marks are always on the hand, but the rest can be anywhere on the arm.”

 

“Do you have to get them?”

 

“When you come of age, you will always get the family and clan marks. If you become a warrior or a Rider, you have to get those marks too. A lot of different walks of life carry their own marks. You take the marks to show your commitment.”

 

Emery’s fingers brushed ghost-like against Ryden’s neck, then he pulled his hand back. “It’s getting late. You should go.”

 

The dismissal seemed quite sudden, but Ryden took one look at the determined set of Emery’s jaw and knew it was pointless to argue. He gave Neela one last stroke. “Alright.”

 

When they reached the wall, Ryden paused, his eyes sweeping over the orchard. “Can I come back again?” He almost sighed when Emery said nothing. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Besides, didn’t he more or less have what he had come here for? With a nimble spring he was at the top of the wall.

 

“Wait.” Emery’s fists were clenched, pressed against the mossy stones. With a great force of will he came to a decision, and looked up at Ryden. “I really want to know more about what’s outside these walls.”

 

This wasn’t like him. This wasn’t like him at all. He was risking so much, for what? Just to hear about places he would never go, things he would never see? It made no sense, but Emery couldn’t stop himself. “I know you have to go back to your own lands soon but it would make me happy if you could come back again before you do.”

 

Ryden laughed, leaning precariously down just so he could tug on Emery’s braid, relishing the way it made Emery’s eyes go wide. “I suppose I could do that.”

 

* * *

 

The days were slipping by. Ryden could feel them trickling through his fingers and knew that every day he stayed here, was a day he could have been that much closer to home. He felt spellbound by Emery, by the orchard, by their evening rendezvous which had become commonplace over the past two weeks.

 

Two weeks. Ryden distinctly remembered telling himself a week was as long as he would delay. Every time he steeled himself, promising himself that tonight would be the last time - and every time, he found himself making promises to return again.

 

The more he told Emery about his travels, the more Emery wanted to know. He listened to Ryden’s stories with rapt attention, and sometimes the most mundane things had Emery as wide-eyed as if he had spun some wildly embellished tale. Yet other things, things Ryden thought fantastical or completely strange, were things Emery took in his stride, acting as though Ryden was the strange one for finding them so unbelievable, had he not seen them with his own eyes.

 

Ryden couldn’t bring himself to leave.

 

“Is it true that the Rend was made by a dragon?” Emery asked one night, while they sat shoulder-to-shoulder beneath a tree, droplets of rain bouncing off the thick leaves that sheltered them.

 

The Rend was a bottomless abyss that stretched from one coast to the other. In its narrowest place, it was guessed to be at least three miles wide. The only way to pass it was by ship, sailing far out to see to avoid the jagged spires of rock that jutted up from the ocean floor.

 

“I think it must have been. No matter where I go, if I ask about the Rend, I get told a fairly similar story,” Ryden said. “One day, a strange mist began to blow across the land. It turned men into crazed monsters, thirsty for blood, twisted their bodies into unnatural forms. It spread like a plague, and there wasn’t a single army in the entire land who could stand against them. Then one day the entire world began to shake and heave. A dragon burst forth from the ground, splitting the world in half. He was colossal, hundreds of miles from nose to tail, and when he spread his wings he plunged the entire world into darkness. For three weeks the darkness lasted. The earth shook, mountains splintered apart. Rivers ran dry, others overflowed. Everyone thought it was the end of the world. And then, three weeks later, the sun finally rose again. The dragon, the plague, the monsters… they were all gone.”

 

Emery nodded. “Our history books say the same sort of thing.”

 

“Every version I’ve ever heard has always been more or less the same, so I suppose there has to be some truth to it.”

 

“Have you seen it? The Rend, I mean.”

 

“Only from afar. There’s a mountain range you need to cross to get to my lands, and from there you can see the Rend in the distance. It’s enormous. I don’t even know how to describe it.” Just thinking about it made Ryden’s skin crawl, because there was something deeply unsettling and unnatural about it.

 

The rain had stopped, and the two men were heading back towards the wall when the sound of a woman humming had Emery’s eyes widening. He grabbed hold of Ryden and pulled him to the ground with surprising strength, behind a row of bushes. Ryden did his best to not groan as the breath was knocked from him, a tree root in his back, and Emery’s entire weight sprawled across his chest.

 

Closer and closer the humming came, with the sound of footsteps. She was headed directly towards them. Emery pressed even closer, trying to make them as invisible as possible behind the bushes. They hardly had much cover, and Emery’s white hair and purple robes weren’t exactly camouflage against the greens and browns. There was no way they wouldn’t be seen, if the woman came much closer.

 

Ryden tried to breathe as quietly as possible. Emery had told him before that there would be a lot of trouble if they were seen, but he hadn’t quite realised how serious it was until now. Each of Emery’s breaths was slow and steady, but Ryden could feel how frantically his heart was beating, could see the way his pulse pounded in his neck beneath the pale skin.

 

Pangs of guilt stabbed at Ryden’s stomach for the first time. He had been so caught up in wanting to sate his own curiosity that he hadn’t ever once stopped to really consider what the consequences might be for Emery. Tales about the outside world had been dangled in front of Emery like bait, deliberately, and it had been taken each time because Emery was hungry for knowledge of what lay beyond these walls. Ryden had taken cruel advantage of that.

 

There was a rustling in the bushes beside them. Ryden felt his heart lurch, and above him, Emery’s face drained of all colour. The humming stopped. The bushes rustled again, Neela’s face poking out from between the leaves.

 

“Hello?”

 

Branches snapped. She was close enough that Ryden could hear her robes rustling as she walked. Emery began to tremble. Ryden carefully reached up and put his hand on Emery’s shoulder, trying to keep him calm and quiet.

 

“Who’s there?”

 

Neela yipped loudly and jumped out of the bushes, the woman shrieking in surprise. The shriek turned into a breathless laugh. “Neela! Why must you insist on scaring people all the time?” The fox yipped again.

 

From between the leaves, Ryden could make out the woman walking off, Neela darting around her legs. Against him, Emery suddenly sagged as all the tension drained from him. He pressed his face into Ryden’s chest, shoulders still trembling, his breath unsteady.

 

“That was close.” Without thinking, Ryden’s hand slid up from Emery’s shoulder to cup the back of his head. Emery’s hair felt like silk against his fingertips.

 

After a few moments, Emery cautiously sat up, peering through the bushes. The coast seemed clear.

 

“I’m sorry, I pushed you down so hard, are you…” Emery trailed off, suddenly very aware that he was straddling the other man.

 

“I’m fine.” Strong hands grasped hold of Emery’s wrists, holding on tighter when the man tried to squirm free. “Emery. What happens if we’re caught?”

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“It doesn’t matter!”

 

“The first night I came here, when someone called your name, you said you would be in trouble if I was seen. Why? What happens if you’re seen with me? Emery, for the gods’ sake, you looked scared to death just now.”

 

“Ryden,” Emery’s voice was firm. “The consequences are mine alone.” Emery had to put his fingers over Ryden’s lips to stop him from talking. “Let me be the one to worry about that, okay? Please.”

 

This was neither the time nor the place, but all Ryden could think about was how soft and warm Emery’s fingers were on his lips. They smelled like fruit, and beneath it something else, something deliciously fragrant. He wanted to kiss Emery’s fingers, see if they tasted as sweet as they smelled. He wanted to press kisses into the palm of his hand and breathe him in.

 

Instead he only nodded. When Emery slowly pulled his fingers back, the warmth of them still lingered on Ryden’s lips.

 

“I suppose it was rather careless of me. I’m often the only one out after sundown, but that’s not always the case.”

 

“Is there somewhere else we could meet?” Ryden could hardly believe that he was, once again, making plans to see this man instead of returning home. “The woods?”

 

“No,” Emery shook his head. “Not the woods. Do you know where the lake is? If you want, you can meet me there tomorrow, at midday.”

 

“Tomorrow?” Their meetings were normally spaced out, a few days between each.

 

“If you don’t want to-”

 

“Of course I want to,” Ryden said quickly. “Tomorrow’s fine. I’ll bring lunch.” The offer was rewarded with a shy little smile, and Ryden felt his heart lurch.


End file.
